


Spank me

by Amie33



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Light Dom/sub, Slapping, Spanking, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:36:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amie33/pseuds/Amie33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em> “What are you going to do, spank me?” </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spank me

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo. It took me almost a year to write this fic and another couple of months to send it to someone for a beta reading - and I'm still not completely hapy with it. This is really not the kind of porn I'm used to write, and I have to admit that I am extremely unconfident about it... Anyway it was a nice challenge. I hope you'll have a nice time reading it.  
> Thanks to [ Charina](http://areyoumarriedriver.tumblr.com) and [Sam](http://sassawho.tumblr.com) for their beta and encouragements.

He was early. For one of the first times in his whole life, he was early. He had planned to arrive a few seconds after she had come back to her cell, but he had failed and she wouldn’t actually be back for a whole three minutes and he hated to wait. He had made sure the guards would not check in on her cell for the next couple of hours, had checked that everything he needed was there, and he had nothing else to do. He looked at her books, ran a hand through her clothes, looked out of her window - rain, clouds, thunder, always the same. Depressing. There was nothing to do here. It was a tiny and boring place. How did she even manage to stay there more than five minutes? He sat down on the single chair in the room, crossed his legs and placed his hands on his lap.

He waited.

Two minutes left. He could come back in the TARDIS and land the moment he wanted, but with the luck he had, who knew if he would arrive three years later, or century before? It was safer to wait. He uncrossed his legs, brushed imaginary lint from his jacket, and ran his fingers through his hair. He sighed and crossed his legs again. Now, he knew why he was always late: so he didn’t have to wait, he just had to come out and run into action.

One minute. He stood up and walked a few steps in the cell - her really tiny cell. It took him exactly eleven seconds to walk around the whole of it. How could someone live here? How could she? He looked at his watch impatiently:  thirty seconds left. He reached her bed, sat down and winced. The blanket was rough but - oh, under it the sheets were soft and silky, the kind that made him want to crawl into them with her and never leave.

Ten seconds.

He straightened the sheets and stood up. He looked one last time at his reflection in the mirror - the tiny piece of glass that was supposed to be a mirror. Was everything so small here? How did she dress or even manage her hair with that? Even so, he had always thought that her hair was some kind of a magic artefact, and he doubted she had to do much to make it perfect.

She popped into her cell precisely on time, in an explosion of sparkles. She was exactly as he remembered. It had been years since that crazy first night when three different versions of her had appeared on his TARDIS. Dealing with one River was complicated enough, and he’d had no choice but to get _this_ her out. He had been a little abrupt with her that night, but she wouldn’t have listened to him - she never did. He had always thought that one day he would come back to her, to _that_ her, to make her forget his rudeness and to offer his apologies to her - even though ‘apologizing’ wasn’t exactly what he had in mind.

She didn’t see him immediately, running her hands across her entire body and shaking her hair with a smug grin. She didn’t seem to be too angry - and he couldn’t see the difference in her hair before and after the timey-wimey trip, whatever she had told him.

“You’re late,” he said, arms crossed over his chest and he was really proud of himself when surprise flashed in her eyes for a second.

“You’re the one that adjusted the manipulator,” she answered, pulling it off her wrist and throwing it on her desk, “So, technically, _you_ are late.”

That was his River, young and insolent, hands on her hips, sure that she was right - and she was, certainly, but he would never admit it to her.

“You pretended to be dead,” he replied. He knew it had nothing to do with the fact that she was late – or that he was early.

“You did it to me once. It was my turn,” she answered simply, and maybe she was right again.

“You weren’t trying to save the universe,” he said, because that was the reason he pretended, why he was still pretending to be dead. He stepped closer and she giggled.

“It was a joke,” she insisted, “don’t say you’re still angry for that, after... how long it has been for you?” She looked carefully at him and opened her diary. “Days? Weeks? Years?”

“Spoilers.” He took her blue book off her hands and closed it, and it was hard to resist the urge to glance at it and read a few lines. He put it on the shelf anyway, among her other books. She looked at him disapprovingly.

“You can’t --”

“You brought a whole army of Sontarans to my TARDIS,” he cut her off, “and you pretended they had killed you,” he repeated, a hand on her lower back now pressing her against him.

“Fortunately, I was only pretending. I’m still waiting for you to reanimate me.” This time she was the one to move closer, leaning her palms on his chest. Her face was near, almost brushing against his and she stayed like that, staring at his mouth, waiting. But he did not move. He wanted to know how much time she would wait, and how much time _he_ could wait. He looked at her face, that face he knew by heart but always looked at like he was discovering it for the first time. He breathed in the air she breathed out, and it smelt like gun fire and electricity, like that moment, that night. She felt like past and memories to him. It was the best scent he knew.

“Would you...” she asked, leaning closer against him impatiently, breaking his train of thoughts.

“Shh.” He cut her off for the second time, pressing a finger against her mouth. “You lost.” He grinned.

She sighed, but almost immediately her face lit up with something else, and before he could react she opened her mouth and took his finger between her lips. She licked at it with sucking noises, her tongue curling around it in a way that was anything but innocent. She gripped his wrist to move his hand in and out of her mouth, her gaze on his face to watch his reactions. He could not take his eyes off of her lips, staring at his forefinger disappearing and reappearing in and out of her mouth. He could feel her teeth scratching his skin and she was the only thing he could think about until the memories of those parts of her around _other_ parts of him began to make him ache for more.

He suddenly freed himself from her grip, taking his finger out of her mouth, and he had no choice but to kiss her lips and make her smug smile disappear. It was a bit rough, teeth clashing and she had to step backwards to resist the pressure of his body against hers. But she recovered quickly, pressing back against him, pushing her tongue into his mouth without any tenderness. They fought for dominance, but tonight he was the oldest and the most experienced and he won. She tried to bite, she tried to lick, she tried to move her hands but he stopped all her movements, leading the way. She pretended she didn’t like that, but between her sighs of frustration there were moans of pleasure and he smirked against her mouth.

They walked as they kissed, or at least they tried to. He pushed her and she resisted, pushing him back, a step backwards, a step forwards, turning around until the backs of her knees were only a few inches from the bed. Her belt fell to the ground and she shifted it out of the way with her feet. His hands on her back moved over her chest, finding the zipper of her dress in the front before dragging it down, brushing her breasts lightly as he did. The fabric slid along her skin and he could not help but groan when he discovered what it was hiding - or what it was not, actually.

He left her mouth and pushed his head back. Except for her boots she was now completely naked.

“You ran through an army of Sontarans without any underwear?”

She giggled and pressed closer.

“I knew I was going to be with you,” she breathed out next to his ear, before licking along his jaw.

“You, bad girl,” he whispered and he could not stop himself from slapping her bum slightly. She squirmed around him, giggling and leaning closer against his chest. The next second her mouth covered his again and she kissed him eagerly, her tongue wrapping around his and her teeth scratching against his lips. He gripped her bum tighter, pushing her against him trying to fill the whole space between them. They both moaned when she rolled her hips against his and her hands brushed down his chest, shoving his jacket until it felt on the ground.

He pulled away instantly, stepping back from her and every cell of him let go of her skin. She looked at him in surprise, almost lost, her breath heavy, her face a bit flushed and her lips wet. His whole body seemed to cry out, wanting to feel her against him again, but that was not the plan.

His eyes darkened and despite the way he had torn himself apart from her, she could see eagerness and lust in his eyes, and she relaxed. “Doctor, what...”

“Shut up,” he said, coldly, his voice trembling a bit - he was not used to being so demanding and it always took him a moment to get into the role. On the contrary, she responded instantly, her mouth shut the moment he asked and her body tensed. He could not help but grin smugly as a visible chill ran down her skin and it was not only submission, it was expectation, fire and passion and her eyes might be as dark as his as she began to understand.

“You have been very bad today. You must be punished.” She was perfect, bending her head submissively, except for the curve of her lips lifting up in a smile.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice soft, and he loved the way she acted, the way she was giving him the lead without any reluctance. He knew she enjoyed it, as much as he enjoyed it when she led the way and he was the one to obey.

“Do you know what I’m going to do?” He moved closer to whisper into her ear, and he could see gooseflesh running on her skin in anticipation.

She didn’t answer, and he knew she was thinking, searching, and there were so many ways he could actually “punish” her. Five years she had been married to him, but it was like it had already been a life time, because he knew she already knew all her kinks, or _most_ of them at least. He pressed closer, until his chest brushed against her breasts and he was sure the touch would drive her mad.

“Remember, what you told me in the TARDIS a few minutes ago?”

_“What are you going to do, spank me?”_

He pulled back, just in time to catch that gleam in her eyes as she remembered and finally understood. She just nodded, silently.

“Lie down.” He shook his head in direction on the bed and she complied, turning her back before closing the small distance between her and the cot. She made sure to sway her hips more than necessary, just because she knew how much he liked it when she did so. She first sat on the bed, bending to untie her boots but he stopped her.

“Don’t.” She raised a brow at him, a bit surprised by his order. Maybe it was a new kink of his? He had always had a kind of fetishism for her shoes. And for her dresses. And for her underwear. And for everything that touched her in fact. So she just obeyed him, lying on the bed with her boots still on and waited.

For a few seconds he didn’t move, looking at her from head to toe and appreciating what he saw. His gaze lingered on her breasts, on her hips, lower, and she wondered if he could see how turned on she already was. The way he looked at her with want, his promise of some spanking - oh, she loved his hands on her - his dominating attitude, all this was making her wet already. And if he couldn’t actually _see_ it, she bet he could feel it, smell it in the air.

Finally he moved, sitting down next to her. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look into her eyes as his hands began to touch her. He stoked her neck, slowly, the pressure barely detectable. He ran a finger along one of her shoulders and she trembled slightly as he passed just above one of her most sensitive spots. He touched her arm, venturing only half-way before he came in contact with her breast. He decided it was worthy of his ministrations, and he took his time, his palm embracing it entirely, his thumb brushing against her nipple and she felt like she had stopped breathing. He was too slow and too gentle, and he was taking more time than she would like. But then he left her breast and she felt better as he directed his attentions elsewhere.

He continued his way down her body, stroking over her waist and stomach, tracing the curve of her hips. He deliberately avoided her sex, caressing her thighs instead, and after a few seconds he was already too far. She bites her lips to stop herself from moaning in frustration.

When he reached the top of her boot he waited a bit, his fingers tracing circles upon her calf languidly. Finally he tugged at her shoe and took it off, slowly, caressing each inch of skin he revealed. She fought to stay completely still as he did; she knew she couldn’t move before he asked her. And even if she could, she wouldn’t show him how much she wanted him and prove to him he was driving her mad. So instead she clenched her fists around the covers of the bed and didn’t move at all while he was doing the exact same thing with her right side as he did with her left – caressing neck, shoulder, arm, breast, waist, hip, thigh, calf and finally shoe.

When she was completely naked in front of him, and close to madness after his slow teasing, he took his time again to look at her. Without his hands on her, it was easier to breathe and she tried to calm down. She knew he wasn’t done with her yet and if she wanted to last she must cool down.

“Turn over,” he finally demanded and she carried out his orders immediately, lying on her front. Another rush of desire ran through her body as she knew they were close to the moment they both expected.

He watched her as she did exactly as he asked. If he had already admired her perfect body from the front, he had to admit that seeing her from behind was his favorite view. The shape of her shoulders that he would so like to lick, the curve of her back that he knew by heart, and of course her arse. How she happened to possess such a beautiful bum, he didn’t know, but it was perfect. He settled behind her, parting her legs with his knee and she obliged without a word. He couldn’t help but run a hand over her wonderful arse, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingers and anticipating the moment when he would hit it with more force.

For now he just pinched it. “Up.”

The next second she raised herself up and finally there she was, all on fours in front of him and the sight was perfect. Her hair, hiding her all face; her back, slightly arched; the round cheeks of her arse; and her sex, clearly visible and already glistening; spreading the harsh smell of her arousal. He hoped he would be able to wait long enough - the sight of her was nearly enough to make him come right that instant.

He took a deep breath and stopped his thoughts, because that was not the plan today. He rolled up his sleeves then and admired her body as it trembled a bit, and it would have hardly been noticeable if he didn’t know her so well. She was as aroused as he was, maybe more. That was perfect. He could begin.

“You know what’s going to happen. I’m gonna tell you your faults and punish you for them. Right?”

They didn’t have any safe word; they didn’t need one. They knew each other well enough to stop when they had too much and to feel when the other couldn’t bear more. And when they had the submissive role, they trusted the other to know they would never do something they couldn’t handle.

Lost in his thoughts it took him a few seconds to realize River hadn’t said anything yet. He slapped her for that silence, his five fingers hitting her flesh with a muffled sound, and she couldn’t stop a cry of surprise. He repressed a smile.

“You answer when I ask you something. Understood?”

“Yes,” she breathed out immediately.

“Good girl.” He rewarded her with another slap and was pleased when matching pink marks appeared on each of her cheeks. It was nothing yet, far from what it would look like in a few minutes, but it was a good beginning. He loved beginnings; especially when they involved his wife and her arse and a little ‘ _I rule, you follow,’_ game.

“You do _not_ fake your death again. _Never_. You do _not_ mock at me over such a serious thing.” He stressed some words by hitting her skin, trying to keep a steady rhythm and to never hit the same spot twice; left, right, from where her thighs began to where her back ended, and of course the wonderful center of her cheeks that bounced with each spank. She gave him the pleasure of squirming deliciously under his hands, gasping and moaning and hissing, a very creative collection of sounds that were worth the game.

He finally stopped after a great list of her real or supposed flaws, and looked at his handiwork. Her arse was now a bright red, some marks of his fingers clearly visible, and he could have drowned in the sight. Pleased with what he had done, he also knew it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

“Wait. Don’t move.”

She nodded and he gave her arse a last smack to reward her. Then he stood up and left the bed. She turned her head slightly, to see him walking to her wardrobe and looking into it. It took him a few seconds to find what he was looking for, and she turned her head back before he could face her. Of course he knew she had been watching him, but being caught was something else and she would not give him that pleasure.

He came back to the bed and knelt down between her legs. “What do you think about this?” he asked, the tip of the crop he had just taken stroking the skin of her back randomly. She hissed between her teeth, waiting for the moment it would strike, but it did not come. It slowly went down, running over her painful arse, before reaching between her thighs. Her legs parted and she moaned in frustration, her hips bucking to try to look for contact with his body but finding none.

“Patience River.” The crop left her skin and she felt even more frustrated, but she closed her mouth and didn’t dare saying anything, knowing it would be her best chance to have what she wanted.

Seconds passed and she didn’t move. Finally the Doctor hummed in approval. “Good, that’s better,” he whispered, his voice hot and full of promise. The tip of the crop came back on her skin, tracing a line along her sides, from the left to the right, and from the right to the left, and again and again she bit her lips not to shout at him to _do_ something. The teasing was worse than the previous spanking, and the ache in her abdomen stronger than the pain caused by the marks of his five fingers on her arse.

Finally the crop left her skin, and before she could prepare herself it hit her with a clack. It was sudden and unexpected after the long waiting, but she didn’t make it known that he had surprised her - he would be too smug about it. Instead she bit her lip harder, repressed the moan that almost escaped her mouth and prepared herself for the next.

“This one is doing well,” he said, and she knew he was not talking about her, but about the crop and she could almost see him caressing the object with the tip of his fingers, imagining the touch of it on her skin, and she missed his next words as the thought itself was barely bearable, “don’t you think?”

She didn’t reply, too focused on controlling her body and its reactions. Her arms were shaking both because of her position and the frustration. She would like to turn around and watched his face, she would like to stop and swap their roles; take this crop and make _him_ kneel in front of her while she slapped him. But it was not the game tonight; she was the one waiting, submissive, trying to repress moans and any movements that would express her need.

The crop clacked again, against the bed this time, a few inches from her right hand and she jolted in surprised. “I asked you a question.”

For a second she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t remember him asking something. She remembered the first clap of the crop on her skin and she remembered his approval and... Did he ask for her agreement maybe? She was not sure. Her thoughts were confused, lost between her urge to have him doing _something_ to her and the strength she needed to control her own body. She wasn’t sure, but she knew that, even if she was wrong, there was only one good answer. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.”

It seemed to satisfy him, and the crop came to rest on her cheek, gently stroking her. “Clever girl. You know exactly what to say.” With those words he made clear he had understood she had no idea what she was answering but also informed her that he didn’t care.

“Maybe we could start then?” he asked and this time she heard him very well.

“Yes,” she replied, and she had to stop herself from shouting. _Yes_ , she’s been ready for hours, couldn’t he just go faster?

“You were bad today,” he began and she knew the rule. She had made something bad for him, and she had to admit it. Then he would reward her by a clap of the crop and later, when he was satisfied, good things would follow.

“Yes.”

Immediately the crop flew and hit her back, and she hissed between her teeth. She was glad they had played this little game for long enough, from his point of view anyway, for him to know exactly where to hit and how much force to apply, so she would feel just enough pain to be aroused without really suffering. She tried to remember that she would have to thank him for that, later.

“You’ll never do that again?” He asked, following the path they both knew. She had to recognize her guilt and promise to be a good girl - just for the extent of the game, anyway.

“No.”

They both knew it was a lie, but the point was not to tell the truth, was it? It was only a game, pretending she was bad and punishing her for it and her in turn, pretending she didn’t like it and regretting her mistakes. It would only be more fun, sexier even the next time.

“You don’t want to be punished like that anymore?” She wanted to scream that he was wrong, that she would do the same thing, again and again just to feel him so dominating. Her Doctor, usually so gentle and soft, almost shy; blushing when she would say something naughty. Her Doctor that in those rare moments became so strong and demanding, such a real male, that it turned her on more than ever... How could she say she didn’t want it anymore? But it was not the right answer, so she breathed in deeply and said the word he wanted to hear.

“No.”

She was rewarded by another clap of the crop on her back and she felt more heat pooling in her lower abdomen. Her hands curled around the bed covers for some support and she bit her lips not to moan.

“Liar. I know you like it.” She turned back, breaking the rules but she didn’t care. She winked at him as she replied;

“Not as much as you do.”

The crop raised and she could see it this time, arcing in the air before falling again and meeting her skin. She turned her head back and tears appeared in the corner of her eyes. It wasn’t pain, not really, at least it wasn’t the pain caused by the hits on her skin. It was something deeper inside of her, frustration, need. It couldn’t last. Her desire was stronger.

“Please, please, Doctor, please.”

“Are you begging me, Doctor Song?” She could almost see his smug smile as he spoke. He had won that part of the game and was perfectly aware of that.

“Don’t be so smug about it and fuck me.”

“Something’s missing.”

Oh, she would make him pay for this later. He couldn’t say that to her and expect her to do nothing in return. But maybe this was what he was looking for?

“Fuck me, _please_ ,” she complied.

He loosened his grip on the crop and it fell to the ground, and finally his hands were on her. Running along her back, and she hissed when his fingers pressed against where the crop had left red marks. Then he placed tiny kisses over them, from the base of her neck to the bottom of her spine. He stopped there, staring at her and her glorious body that he had just tagged at his. His fingers lingered on her skin, before her sighs of frustration reminded him her previous demand.

He placed a last kiss upon her back and blew air on her skin until she shivered. Then one of his hands came to rest upon her hip, stopping her movements, while his other hand reached between her legs. She gasped as he finally touched her where she wanted him the most. And it was only his fingers, but he knew exactly how to use them. He smiled as she writhed beneath him, trying to shift her hips, seeking for more friction but only moaning in frustration as he held her steady with his hand tight on her hips.

The sight of her was irresistible though and his hands were not enough. Bending down, he darted his tongue out and he licked her up her back, along the line of her spine while gooseflesh formed where he passed. Her body was burning in need, hotter where there were the marks from their previous game and she was covered with sweat, salty and spicy against his lips. When he reached her neck his tongue left her skin and his mouth came to her ear, leaning as close as he could.

“I do love you when you’re like that,” he whispered, his words barely audible over the sounds she was making. His fingers were still in her, playing with her, but he had to focus to match the fast movements of her hips bucking against him.

“When you’re all mine. And you taste so good.” His tongue darted out to lick her shoulder briefly, just so he could taste her again.

“And when you smell so good.” He breathed in deeply, multiple scents coming to him, the delicate perfume of her sweet shampoo and the harsher smell of her arousal.

“And when you sound so good.” She was half moaning, half sobbing now, looking for a release he didn’t allow her to find, not yet.

“And I absolutely love how the whole of you feels against me, around me, under me.” It was more and more difficult for him too, and his erection was trapped in his tight trousers. The only way he could touch her was with his hands in her and his face against her ears.

“But do you know what I Iove the most?” She groaned an incomprehensible answer. “When you come for me, you’re just glorious, chanting my name over and over ‘til you forgot how to breathe. Would you do that for me, _now_?” he demanded and his words plus the addition of a last expert twist of his fingers and she was coming, screaming his name - or he guessed so, because it was hard to know what she was actually saying. She shuddered uncontrollably for long seconds, and his hand on her hips was still holding her up, preventing her collapse on the bed. His whole body was pressed against her and he was close to coming himself; just by the feel of her trembling body.

She finally stopped moving and they both stayed still, trying to catch their breath. When he finally moved his hand from her, she unexpectedly caught his wrist and turned around. Before he could realize what was happening she had turned around and pushed him on his back, so that he was now lying on his back and she was straddling his waist.

Her eyes locked with his as she brought his still wet fingers into her mouth and sucked them. Her tongue wrapped around each of the digits, cleaning them completely; at the same time she was humming, obviously satisfied with what she tasted, her hips rocking against him and he could feel her wetness despite the layers of clothes still separating them. He moaned, the pressure in his trousers almost unbearable now.

When she finally released his hand, her fingers immediately reached his zip and he sighed with relief as his erection popped out free. She didn’t bother pushing his clothes all the way down his legs, letting them rest on his thighs. The next second she took him in her hands and before he could even breathe out she sank down around him. Her sex clamped around his cock as she lets out a moan that echoed his own.

He couldn’t tear his eyes off her while she rocked her hips and immediately set a rapid rhythm. Her hands were gripping his shirt tightly, her head thrown back and he admired the shape of her neck, the flush of her throat, how her breasts bounced with each movement, the curve of her arched back as she ground against him frantically in her own pleasure seeking. His hand reached out to touch every inch of flesh he could. He was happy he found something to keep the guards occupied, even if they had nothing against a bit of exhibitionism, he wouldn’t have shared that view with anyone.

He was so lost in the sight of her that he didn’t realize her hands had left his chest. When she slapped him the first time he couldn’t help screaming in surprise, and his hips bucked higher. It was followed by a lower moan of, “River,” and he understood what she was doing. She was both taking his revenge for the previous spanking and increasing her pleasure at the same time. A thrill ran through his whole body.

“Do it again,” he pleaded, his voice low and confident in a way he was sure would please her. She opened her eyes and cocked her head, looking at him with dark eyes. She smirked, and the next second she slapped him again. This time they both moaned as the same time as the hand hit his face and he squirmed a little more.

“Again”.

She didn’t bother waiting, complying enthusiastically to his demand. He kept asking her until it became unnecessary, her slaps now regular. Heat spread through his whole body each time her fingers hit him, and each time his body lifted higher, reaching deeper inside of her and eliciting louder cries. She followed his movements, riding him faster until any kind of rhythm was completely lost. Finally the slaps stopped, her fingers curling around his shirt as she spasmed around him, screaming her pleasure. He was right after her, his vision blurring as orgasm hit him with force.

He felt River falling against his side as he caught his breath, and clinging to him so as not to fall from the one person-cot. They stayed like that for a while, the only movement the rapid rise and fall of their chests as their breathing returned to normal.

“Did I make it up to you?” he finally asked and she raised her head.

“Make it up for what?”

“I was a bit rude, sending you back to your cell after only a couple of minutes in the TARDIS, but I...”

She cut him off with her lips on his mouth and he closed his eyes while she kissed him slowly.

“So was it a yes?” he asked when they parted and she smiled at him.

“Almost. You’re still fully dressed.”

She kissed him again, this time her hands working with the buttons of his shirt. He let her do it and just to be sure she forgave him, made it up to her a few more times.

 


End file.
